


Recovery

by sangheilinerd



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Sex, Alien/Human Relationships, Exhibitionism, Grappling, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2019-12-31 23:21:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18324020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sangheilinerd/pseuds/sangheilinerd
Summary: Thel and John have been through a lot. Each were warriors in a thirty years' long, genocidal war. Each has watched many brothers fall in said war. The physical scars evident across both bodies, but the mental wounds the scars deeper than skin? Well John knows those don't heal as quickly. When he wakes up with Thel's hands wrapped around his throat and the eyes staring back at him appear blank he knows immediately what is happening. Calmly dealing with the situation seems paramount.





	1. Waking up Choking

**Author's Note:**

> This has kind of been rattling around the ole noggin for a while. I always wondered what would happen if Thel and John fell in love working together during the course of Halo 3. So I made it so. But now the war is over. What will happen? Will their relationship survive the struggle of PTSD? Watch and see.

Master Chief Petty Officer of the United Nations Space Command Navy John 117 had retired only months ago. His body had been modified to such an extent that he looked half his age. Except his eyes. Blue pools of fire which had such intensity that rarely anyone could hold his gaze for long. If one could, they would see nearly forty years of service out of which only four years had been spent without combat. The Master Chief was known on every world. Yet he knew only a handful of people due to the nature of the Spartan II program. One of which was an AI which had gone rampant five years prior. Losing Cortana was huge, sure. Chief had chased after her, trying to save her from herself.

She had become a freedom fighter for the AIs. Wanting AIs to inherit the galaxy and kill all organics. It had been such a hard thing to do for Chief to have to fight someone whom he considered family. When he’d run into Thel again, it reminded him of their many missions on the Ark. The massive Forerunner space station that floated above the Milky Way Galaxy and was where they first met. Well, not truly. Thel and he had run ins before. When Thel was the Supreme Commander of the Fleet of _Particular Justice,_ which Attacked Reach.

Yeah, His and the Arbiter’s meetings were almost always turbulent. When Chief and his Spartans attacked the Fleet of _Paticular Justice_ in the early days of the war, Chief and a younger Thel had had a duel. John knew then that he’d fight along side this individual if it weren’t for a happenstance of fate. The Arbiter only did as he thought was right. And as time went on, it became obvious that the Prophets were not seeking to destroy humanity because it was the will of the Gods, but because they were afraid of what the humans would reveal about the Forerunners. And they did. They revealed that the Prophets were completely lying about the “Great Journey.” It ended up being a completely insane plan which entailed the complete genocide of all sentient species in the entire galaxy.

It took the conniving of the collective consciousness of the Flood, the Gravemind, to convince the Arbiter of the Prophets’ true plan. But once convinced, He became an ally. He became a friend. In fact, they fought like brothers upon the Ark. Or Instillation 00 as was its designation, which it was given by the Forerunners who built it. The bastion of life built by the Librarian. A forerunner who did all she could to protect all life in the Galaxy from the first Flood invasion several thousand years ago.

He stared up at the ceiling of Thel’s home. He’d decided to learn what he could of the Sangheili culture, on Sangheilios. However, this was for another reason, it allowed John to be close to Thel. Indeed, he stared at the ceiling in Thel’s bedchambers. Thel lay next to him fast asleep. Snoring lightly. Apparently, even Sangheili snored. The males and females of Vadam were kind to him, though many still called him Demon. He still went everywhere in his armor. Except Thel’s bedchambers. They were the only place where Chief had felt comfortable revealing himself to anyone. However, it wasn’t just anyone. He’d fallen for Thel. His armor stood in its cradle at the far end of the chambers. He lay in his undergarments completely bare to a man who had once sought his end, yet now they only sought each other’s happiness.

The Sangheili found it odd, though, that a male would fall in love with another male. But they made no move to stop the Hero of the Great Schism from finding happiness. The UNSC wasn’t exactly happy with it, either, but the human acceptance of LGBTQ++ had all but been an established practice for years. It was a nonissue. It wasn’t the sex of the object of Chief’s affections that were the problem. It was the species. Since the end of the Covenant-Human War, tensions between the different species of the former Covenant Hegemony and the humans had remained…high. Nearly thirty years of genocidal war wasn’t so easily forgotten.

Chief marveled at how much his life had changed since he’d been retired. He’d gone through so much in his forty years of active service, much of that had been in combat. First the insurrectionists, then the covenant, then the Flood, then the forerunner constructs known as Prometheans, it seemed that all Chief knew was combat. So to be able to sleep—

“Gaaaaaaaah!” the Arbiter sat bolt upright. Then saw Chief and jumped on him, choking him in his massive hands. He muttered in his native tongue, squeezing tighter and tighter.

Chief knew what was going on and, despite his dwindling air supply, did not panic. Instead he put his hand affectionately to the side of Thel’s head, causing the massive warrior to flinch. It gave Chief the opportunity to grasp the Arbiter’s hands and gently pull them from his throat. “Thel, my love. Please, come back to me.” He smiled whistfully, “come back to me, my heart, my soul.”

Thel’s reptilian eyes blinked a few times, and his amber orbs definitely showed him coming back to himself. He looked down at his lover, and he paled. It had happened again. The waking nightmares. His old sins come to haunt him. His battles brought back to life by a heart filled with guilt. “I…I…” Thel couldn’t say more, he’d almost killed the man he loved. He was up and out of the bed and in the lavatory in mere moments.

John knew that reaction all to well. He’d been the one a week prior to be ashamed of his actions whilst under the thrall of PTSD-induced nightmares. He knew what it was. The battlefield was not kind to the warriors who left it. He sighed and got up. “Thel ‘Vadam, you have no reason to be ashamed. It is something we humans have come to know as Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. It’s an affliction common amongst warriors.”

“My demon, I do want to hurt you. I might have killed you just then.”

“My heart, you and I both know that wasn’t your strongest attack on me. We’ve crossed blades. I’m well aware of your strength.” Chief replied, before opening the lavatory door. To see a saurian whose head drooped in shame.

“They slaughtered my brothers. And one of them—a minor—had been a hatch mate of mine. He was barely breathing. I…Chief… I have been a warrior for as long as I can remember. Seen the innards of thousands spilled for the sake of the Covenant, but I wished for tears that day. I wished for the ability to cry, such was my grief. I swore that day, I’d kill Tartarus. His treachery knew no bounds.”

Chief looked at his lover, a Sangheili who had seen things that no man nor woman should. His ledger was drenched in the blood of billions of innocents. Thirty years of war was a long time. It would drain practically anyone of their sanity. Chief often wondered if his had left him in his childhood—or the lack thereof. Even a culture focused on war fighting as the Sangheili would have their sanity tested in a war so long with so many lives lost. “How many?”

“What?”

“How many of your men died in the slaughter?”

“I lost count of the corpses in the fighting, but it neighbored in the thousands.”

“How many Sangheili died in total in the Human Covenant War?”

“Millions? Billions? I’m not sure. Where are you going with this, John?”

“Thirty-five billion two hundred sixty-five million seven hundred fifty-two thousand four hundred fifty-three human deaths over the course of thirty years. That’s more than a billion deaths a year. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. I’m only trying to point out that the Covenant was extremely successful in its genocidal campaign against us. We nearly died out.”

“Okay…” The Arbiter gave his lover a non-plussed look. “I thought you said that you _weren’t_ trying to make me feel bad.”

“I’m not. Do you realize that without your and your followers’ help, we’d be gone? Humankind—Spartans and normal humans—owes you so much. Your heresy led to our survival. Love, you’re a hero. We may not show it, the xenophobic idiots that we are, but we do appreciate all your kind did to help us out from under the dark shadow of extinction.

“Your brothers who died in the fight did _not_ die for nothing. Their souls may rest in peace. Now would you like me to call someone to talk to?”

“Rtas. I don’t want this getting out.”

“I understand love.” Chief took the last step forward and hugged his lover tight. Reaching up to kiss the seam where all four of his mandibles came together. “Now, come. Let’s get some rest. The first Sun will be rising soon.”


	2. Waking up Screaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has a good day sparring with some newly minted Elites. Then he takes a nap. His dream worries Thel. It just shows how much healing the Spartan still needs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am struggling with this series. I love this pairing. I love the concept of these two learning to heal while also trying to love one another and be strong for each other. I just have never dealt with PTSD myself. So a lot of this is based on information coming from second hand sources. So please, forgive any misunderstandings or misrepresentations.

John was exhausted. He and the Arbiter had offered to spar with some of the juveniles who’d finished training. Many of them wanted the chance to spar with the ‘Demon of the Great War’. He may have hated that name at one point, but now he wore it as a badge of honor. Seeing the way that the younglings looked at him with awe. It made him remember why he’d come to Sanghelios in the first place. Learning to appreciate a different culture than his own, that had been part of the reason why. The other reason was standing right beside him.  
“Does your kind do photographs?” John asked Thel at one point.  
“Why?”  
“I want to ask your mother for any embarrassing photos she may have of you.” John had replied plainly. He was smirking beneath his helmet. As ever, when he and Blue Team wanted to show each other that they were smiling he’d placed his forefinger to the facemask—he’d had to explain it to the Sangheili, but once he had the Sangheili had given him one of his own smiles.  
“I’m beat; I think I’ll hit the hay.” Master Chief said, “Good Night, love.”  
“It’s only a little past midday, John.” Thel looked at him quizzically, “How long do you want to sleep?”  
“An Hour?”  
“Alright…” Thel replied, “Good Night, John.”  
***  
Thel had invited Rtas over to stand guard over his mate. He’d been doing this for a while, now. Sangheili were a warring race. In fact, Thel had tried to truly shelter John from the true extent of the warring nature of his people. He knew that John knew about it. At least on a surface level, but the Arbiter was a title that was becoming coveted again. Thanks in part to his own actions. He’d not only regained his honor; he’d regained the honor of his entire people.  
His own nephews had—on multiple occasions—tried to kill him in his sleep, before John had come to live with him. [You’re drifting away again, brother.]  
[Sorry, Rtas. Just thinking. I wish that this wasn’t necessary.] Thel sighed, [If John went back to his world, he’d be treated as a hero, sure. But he’d also not have to worry about being assassinated in his sleep.]  
[John’s generally a light sleeper, my friend. And a fierce warrior in his own right.]  
[Have you seen him outside of his suit, Rtas? Yeah, he’s multiple times stronger than the average human, but still many times weaker than we without that mechanical contraption.]  
[You seem to forget, that I’ve been acting as your bodyguard for a while, Thel. He--]  
“No!”  
[That was John! I’m not going to watch my mate die, Rtas.] Thel grabbed his energy swords and raced into the room. The picture that his human painted, worried him.  
***  
His MA5-B’s report resounded throughout the cavern to the point that it was solely a dull thrum in the background. He was running low. His M6D had been abandoned in favor of a Plasma Pistol which had only a few more shots in it. He had three more extra mags for his Assault Rifle before that, too, was dead.  
The situation was dire. The Arbiter wasn’t in any better situation. His carbine was on its last magazine and his energy sword’s battery would run out on his next slash.  
They were both pinned in the back of a canyon on one of the Halo installations and they were being practically overrun by Flood bioforms. It seemed like this was the end. “MCPO John-117, Arbiter Thel ‘Vadam Dead!” The headline would read.  
A Flood infected Sangheili jumped on John and began slashing at his suit. His energy shields were completely devastated. His armor was starting to fail. He saw the arbiter take out his energy sword and throw the carbine away. They were not practically overrun. They were overrun.  
As John desperately punched at the bioform on top of him, he heard the gzhzzzzzzz sound of the Arbiter’s energy sword’s last strike. “John…” the Arbiter called out, “John…I’m sorry John!” And that was it. In the next second, Thel was overrun by flood spores.  
“No!” John sat bolt upright in bed. He was sweating profusely and his side of the sheet was drenched. His breathing was labored and his fist held the sheets in a death grip.  
The Arbiter and Rtas burst into the room, energy swords activated. “John, is everything ok?” Thel asked John, before seeing his condition. He rushed over and encapsulated the Spartan in a comforting hug. “It was just a dream, love. The past coming back to haunt you. But you know this, don’t you?”  
John nodded shakily; his confidence was rattled. That dream had hit a little too close to home. “It…it wasn’t the past. I saw…you…Thel. I saw you die. Overrun by Flood Spores.”  
“The flood is no more, Demon. We defeated them. You defeated them.” Rtas assured from his position by the door, his sword still buzzing. “Do you want me to call the ambassador?”  
John shook his head adamantly. “I’m…fine.”  
Thel leveled a gaze at his brother-in-arms. “That’s a load of shit and you know it.” Then, in Sangheili he addressed Rtas, [Call him. Tell them to send one of their mind-healers. He’s trying to pull away again.]  
Rtas did the Sangheili equivalent of nodding his head in affirmation. He clicked off his sword and left the two lovers be. He exited the door before accessing his coms, “Yes this is Rtas Vadum, of the swords of Sanghelios. I need to speak with Admiral Lord Hood.” He said with finality.  
The care of one’s soldier’s after war should be standard fare amongst the races. Indeed, it was amongst the Sangheili. The warrior culture may have made them look down on healers, but they knew that if they were going to continue on, they needed them. Quite ironically, Sanghelios’ healthcare system was among the best in the galaxy.


	3. Waking up Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chief and the Arbiter are interrupted by Rtas. He's bringing a mind-healer. Thel is unrepentant. John and the mind-healer begin discussing his issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely a Mature chapter. Considering the scaly and saurian nature of our favorite ceremonial-armour-clad Elite, I decided it would make sense for nudity to not be as big of an issue in their society. Usually only worn to keep one warm in the winter months. Cloth of the woven variety would probably catch and bind with a scaled hide.
> 
> I included the bits of non-plot-related fluff to help me cope with writing such a heavy topic. So enjoy.

Lord Hood and the Psychiatrist walked the many flights of the oddly spaced stairs and landings. Definitely not meant for human feet and legs, the gait was all wrong. He’d heard Rtas’s tone in the vidcall he’d received. He wasn’t an idiot. PTSD wasn’t a disease you could be immune to. It affected all combatants. But the hero of the Great Schism? _The_ Master Chief? They didn’t deserve to be torn apart by demons of their leader’s making.

 

He walked past a large wall of Sangheili glyphs. A testament to their previous warriors, he’d been told. Honor the Keep and have your name immortalized on the wall. Dishonor the Keep, and your name would be lost to the annals of time. And as if materializing from the æther, Rtas stepped from an enshrouded alcove.

 

“Good god in heaven!” shouted the Fleet Admiral, “I forget how quietly you buggers move.”

 

Rtas chuckled in his alien way. “Come with me.”

***

John sat on the bed admiring as Thel went through his morning stretches. Completely in the nude. Considering there was no outward sign of their genitalia, there wasn’t quite the same level of modesty in Sangheili culture as with modern human culture. Seeing Sangheili wearing nothing at all on hot summer days was more common than not. But the arbiter had a kinky side. He _loved_ being on display. And on display, he was. His fifteen-inch-long, purple, alien member with its quadfurcated, bulging head and its underside lined with flower-petal-like spines was out and standing at attention. John’s boxers tented in the groin, showing he liked what he saw. That ended a moment later, when a knocking sound rapped against the doorway which had been put on do not disturb.

 

[What and who is it?] the Arbiter growled. His duties to his people couldn’t be ignored, but that didn’t mean he liked to be interrupted in the middle of his time with John.

 

[Sorry to interrupt, brother. The human Fleetmaster is here. With the mind-healer. May I enter?] Rtas sounded on the other side.

 

John looked at the Arbiter questioningly. “Who is it? Sounds like Rtas.”

 

“Lord Hood and a mind-healer.”

 

“I told you I’m fine, Thel!” John nearly shouted, before getting up from the bed.

 

“Bullshit, John. You’re fine right now, sure. But do you think I’m dumb enough to think you’re immune to something that _every_ warrior gets. I did some research on my own. It’s common amongst _all_ the races, John. Though apparently _Humans_ and Jiralhanae suffer the worst.” He opened the door, heedless of his still semi-aroused state.

 

The admiral cleared his throat as John snapped to attention in his boxers. “Did we come at a bad time?” Hood asked, his eyes watching as the Arbiter’s amazingly alien erection withered away and slipped back into his slit. _John takes that thing up… oh my sweet heavens!_ The admiral’s face turned beat red.

 

“No, sir! Nothing at all, Admiral.” John replied curtly, “Just putting Sangheili Standard language lessons into Nike’s subroutines.” He shot a pointed glare in Thel’s direction.

 

Thel snapped his mandibles at John with a glare of his own. “Don’t give me that, John. You need this help. And I love you. Of course, I’m going to help.”

 

John harrumphed and slammed himself back on the bed. Moments later, a man in a very well pressed and well-tailored business suit with a goldenrod bow tie walked in. He had hair the color of wheat during harvest. He had on a pin which identified him as in ONI’s employ, but was very obviously not military. The beer gut stretching his waistband was an obvious giveaway. He came in and held out his hand for John to grasp. Which John grasped. “Mikhail Gustoffson of Harvest. I knew Avery. He saved my ass a few times, back before they glassed the planet.”

 

“Nice to meet you.”

 

Thel and Lord Hood left moments later, joining Rtas on the other side of the door. The door whooshed shut behind them. Rtas leaned over to Thel and in Sangheili muttered, [You think the mind-healer will be ok?]

 

[John’s not violent. Not really…You think I should stay to intervene if necessary?] Thel replied, taking a step back toward the door.

 

[No.] Rtas did the Sangheili equivalent of a shrug. [Let’s go to the sparring fields. I’m itching for some exercise. And these ‘Vadam children look like they could use some instruction from a real warrior. Getting beat by the demon.]

 

Something that was common between humans and Sangheili was friendly ribbing and shoving. Thel elbowed Rtas in the ribs lightly. [Says the guy missing mandibles. Come on, let’s get down there so I can get started defeating you.] Thel quipped.

 

Rtas growled out in challenge. [Oh, You’re on, ‘Vadam. What’s John gonna say when I’ve laid you out on the field, Huh?]

 

Thel laughed. A deep, guttural sound. [Good luck with that, ‘Vadum! You’ll need it.] He and Rtas headed down the hall toward the sparring fields and left Lord Hood there in the hall in front of the Arbiter’s room confused.

 

“What just happened?” Lord Hood muttered to himself, “Guess I should go with them.” He said and sprinted after them.

***

John eyed the man who was supposed to help heal his mind. If his eyes were plasma cannons, the man in front of him would have surely been ash, such was the force of venom with which he stared at the man.

 

He wasn’t exactly puny, but John was a giant. All Spartan IIs generally reached around seven-foot easy. He was no exception. The man in front of him was a little taller than average human height at about six-foot-five. So, John didn’t quite tower over the man, but he still had the height advantage.

 

The man cleared his throat and then sat down, “Tell me about these dreams, John. May I call you John?”

 

John grunted his ascent. What else could the man call him? Master Chief? He’d been starting to ask Thel about naming in Sangheili culture since it seemed to be slightly less obvious than one might think. In the briefing before he’d been cleared to go to Sangheilios, one of ONI’s experts on Sangheili came in and explained to him that their ‘last name’ was really the name of the keep from which that particular Sangheili hailed from.

 

When He and Thel had started dating, he’d told the Sangheili of human mating practices and the implications of last names in human society. That had really been an interesting topic for him and the Arbiter to discuss. Especially since John’s own Family name had been stripped from him when he’d been conscripted into the Spartan II program.

 

That had led to discussions of Sangheili marital rights and the thought of one day joining their lives in matrimony. Sangheili viewed two males joining their lives as odd, but not unprecedented and nor was it viewed with the distain that earlier human society viewed it as. So it was that John had asked the Arbiter to claim him in the traditional manner.

 

The scars from that night, like a smattering of teeth marks on the round of his shoulder let any Sangheili know that he was Thel’s. That he was taken and that it’d be practically suicide to make a move on him. That thought broke his mood. He gave a small smile, rubbing the raised scar tissue on his shoulder in fond remembrance. He cleared his own throat and started, “Well they’ve been pretty constant since Instillation 04. The things that I saw there—killed there. They’d come back to haunt my dreams every once in a while. Cryo’s been a torture chamber because of that. Locked in the pod and unable to wake from my nightmares. Avery’s been in a few. Guilty Spark should have been disassembled piece by piece for what he did to my friend.”

 

“Go on...” The shrink said in his slightly reedy tenor.

 

John sighed and then he started to relax and begin recounting the latest dream. The night terrors, more like. The waking dreams and flash backs. The spike in adrenaline he got when an unknown Sangheili in armor rounded a corner in the common areas of the keep. Each of the little details that the shrink confirmed for him what he already knew: “Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It’s very common among soldiers returning home from combat. I’m not surprised to learn you have it, John. I’m just shocked that it took ONI so long to provide you the resources you need for recovery.”

 

“Osman’s got a tight grip on those purse strings, doesn’t she?” John managed a light quip.

 

The psychiatrist chuckled. “Humor’s good, John.”

 

“It’s helped me deal with stress in the past. I used to banter a lot with Co--” John choked back a light sob, “Cortana...” He finished, staring off into space as he thought about the AI who’d hitched a ride in his suit for a majority of his time in combat after leaving Reach.

 

He jumped a little as he felt a hand pat lightly on his thigh, near his knee. “You did the right thing, John. She was rampant. She was a threat to us as well as the other AI she said she was championing. Taking her offline was a kindness, John.”

 

John sighed, “I guess...”

 

“Survivor’s guilt isn’t an uncommon thing amongst people with PTSD, John.” Gustoffson said, comfortingly. “Let’s work through this, John. It’s obvious you and I have a lot to talk about.”

 

“I guess...That’s not a bad idea.”

 

“Would having Thel here next time make you more comfortable?”

 

John shrugged, “Yeah. He’s not impervious either, though. He needs counseling as well.”

 

The doctor hummed to himself, “I’m aware. I’ve been talking with some buddies at ONI to try and understand a baseline status for Sangheili. Their minds work a little differently than ours. So, I wanted to walk in knowing what that difference meant for treating them.” He nodded to John, “Alright, John. We’re gonna stop here for today. I’ll come again in a Sangheili standard week.”

**Author's Note:**

> The number used for Human deaths in canon is only more than Thirty billion lives. I never liked the imprecision of this number. So I used one. I thought it would make sense that ONI would have kept precise numbers on the Human death toll.


End file.
